


Cowards Like Company

by starstrung



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both of them keep dancing away from looking too close at what they have, and neither of them spends too long wondering what exactly they mean to each other.<br/>The big reason for this is that there really isn’t enough time. Jim barely has time to sleep most days. He’s always running from something or to something, and Bones is much the same way, although he does it a lot more quietly.<br/>The other big reason is that they’re both scared shitless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowards Like Company

0.

With the bullheadedness that both of them are a bit famous for, Jim and Leonard both don’t to try think too hard about the specifics of their relationship. It’s more puzzling and baffling than anything they’ve ever encountered before. It’s something they never thought they’d have, so as far as they’re concerned, it’s some kind of shared delusion that they’ve both happened to stumble into.

So both of them keep dancing away from looking too close at what they have, and neither of them spends too long wondering what exactly they mean to each other.

The big reason for this is that there really isn’t enough time. Jim barely has time to sleep most days. He’s always running from something or to something, and Bones is much the same way, although he does it a lot more quietly.

The other big reason is that they’re both scared shitless.

1.

Jim’s the kind of person who joins the Xenolinguistics Club when he’s bored. He shows up bright and early to one of the meetings, and gives a sunny smile to Uhura when she walks in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Uhura groans.

“Not in Standard, I’m not,” Jim says in Vulcan, which he then proceeds to talk in for the rest of the club meeting. It’s simultaneously impressive and annoying, and by the end of it, Uhura is reading an article about how to discretely bury a body on a PADD that she has resting on her knee out of sight under the table.

Because Jim doesn’t even have the courtesy to talk in _official_ Vulcan. Instead he is somehow passably fluent in a little-known dialect spoken in a few southern regions of Vulcan.

“What the hell was that all about?” Uhura says as they come out of the meeting.

“Bones is back over at Georgia visiting his family,” Jim explains, in Standard, thankfully. “I got bored so I thought I’d learn a new language.”

Uhura looks at him with concern. He definitely doesn’t look like he’s slept in a long time, and the slightly jerky way he’s moving his limbs suggests that he’s been living off caffeine. He has a cup of coffee in his hand right now, which she steals.

“What made you choose Southern Vulcan?” she asks, ignoring his protests.

“I chose it randomly. I didn’t even know it existed actually. Can I have my coffee back?”

She shakes her head and downs the cup of coffee in front of him, smiling when he makes pitiful noises of pain.

“So then why were you at Xenolinguistics Club?” she asks, when he’s done overreacting.

“To find you. Know any good Southern Vulcan poetry?”

After a lot of hard negotiating, in which he comes out feeling that he’s bargained off his soul and his firstborn child, Uhura finally gives Jim access to the Xenolinguistics database and helps him find the few obscure texts that are actually written in Southern Vulcan. Half of them are scientific papers, which he discards, but the other half look to be poetry, so he sets himself down with one of them and begins to translate.

Vulcan poetry is kind of cool. It has a lot of desert imagery, and he never knew that deserts could be that poetic until now. He seriously never thought it was possible to have this many metaphors about sand and endless plains. It makes him want to see the Vulcan deserts, maybe find out what all the hype is about.

“I guess you could say Vulcan poetry is pretty _dry_ ,” he giggles to himself, and it’s too loud in the empty dorm room.

But three hours later, he’s hanging upside down out of Bones’s bed, lightly beating his head with a PADD. Because it’s one thing to know how to speak the language, it’s another thing to be able to tell what the hell their poetry is saying. He’s been stuck on a line that makes absolutely no sense to him. There’s just one word that’s giving him trouble, which he can’t figure out the meaning of because it’s just a combination of some other random Vulcan words.

He paces around the room saying the line out loud in every possible variation he can muster, loudly and boisterously, then quieter. He even tries to sing it, which doesn’t particularly help.

Bones comes in when he’s stretched out on the floor, PADD thrown across the room in frustration. Jim looks up and sees him in the doorway, haloed by the morning sunlight that is spilling from outside into the darkened dorm room, because of course he spent all night over half a stanza of poetry.

And then he gets it. It clicks. He jumps to his feet, and claps his hands onto Bones’s shoulders. “The night’s shifting dances when it breaks into day!” he says triumphantly in Southern Vulcan.

“Jim, what—” Bones begins. Jim kisses him.

It’s their first kiss, so it’s a little strange for them both, although it’s a bit stranger for Bones, who, in his many imaginings of how their first kiss would happen, never imagined shouted phrases of Vulcan poetry.

It’s strange for Jim too, who didn’t really mean to kiss Bones. He realizes after a very short amount of time that he’s really enjoying it and also he wouldn’t like to stop. All thoughts of deserts and daybreak go flying out the window when Bones kisses him back.

“I missed you too,” Bones says, in plain old Standard, and it sounds a hell of a lot more poetic to Jim than anything some stuffy Vulcan wrote.

2.

Leonard comes awake to an unpleasant sensation, like someone took every part of his body and ran it several times through a meat processor. He pushes himself upright and groans at the pounding headache. Jim is passed out next to him on the floor. They are surrounded by empty bottles. He doesn’t remember much from the night before, but he can imagine what happened. He’s mad at himself for letting Jim talk him into drinking themselves shitfaced, but at the same time, he knew they both needed to get it out of their system.

As he is massaging his stiff neck, Leonard’s eyes fall on the chronometer. He swears.

“Jim, wake up,” he yells loudly, stumbling to the bathroom and opening the cabinet where he keeps the hangover hyposprays.

“Bones, you’re too loud,” he hears Jim say groggily.

“Jim, we’re late. You have to get up,” Leonard says. He catches a brief look at himself in the mirror and winces at his reflection. And he’s sure Jim looks just as bad. They only have a short amount of time to look presentable. He gives himself a hangover cure, and then stabs one into Jim’s neck as well. Thankfully, Jim is at least sitting upright by now.

“Bones, I don’t want to go. Can’t they do it without me?” Jim says, face in his hands.

“Jim, this whole thing is for you. And we need this. After everything that’s happened, everyone needs something to smile at and clap their hands about,” Leonard says. And it shouldn’t be up to Jim to raise morale, but that’s the way it’s fallen.

Jim sighs and nods, looking up at him. “You’ll be there, right?”

Leonard smiles. “You know I will, kid. But we have to _move_.”

They both take quick, hasty showers. There is a bit of a crisis when Leonard can’t find Jim’s uniform. After some fumbling and two stubbed toes, they eventually find it crumpled under the bed. Jim irons out the creases as best as he can while Leonard dresses in his own cadet reds. His uniform is slightly rumpled as well, but he’s not the one who everyone’s going to be staring at today, so it doesn’t matter.

“I’m ready,” Jim says, hastily putting on his uniform. They run out of the dorm room, tearing across the campus to where the auditorium is. The morning is chilly but they still arrive with a light sheen of sweat. Jim wipes his forehead. They both catch their breaths in front of the auditorium doors.

“I guess this is it,” Jim says.

“Wait, Jim,” Leonard says, stopping him. He fixes the collar of Jim’s uniform, straightening up everything that got rumpled on their run here. He runs his hands over Jim’s shoulders and finds that Jim is staring at him, an intense expression on his face.

“You’re good,” he says, voice gone slightly shaky.

Jim leans forward and kisses him, tongue running lightly against his lower lip. Leonard’s hands inadvertently curl in the lapels of Jim’s uniform. “Thanks, Bones,” Jim whispers, and heads into the auditorium.

Leonard waits for the morning air to cool away his flushed face before heading in himself. He sneaks into the ranks of cadets and sits down in the audience just as the ceremony starts.

The admirals are solemn as they give brief speeches and commendations. Their stiff words about the disaster that has struck are nothing in the way of healing. As Leonard looks around at the room, he sees so many empty seats. He knows he’s not the only one who has noticed. The cadets who were only a short while ago, bright-eyed and young, have aged in an impossibly short time.

Finally, it is time for Jim to come forward. They give him the Enterprise, stick a badge on his uniform, and Jim goes to shake Pike’s hand. It’s all ceremony. Jim got the announcement that he’d be getting captaincy of the Enterprise about a week ago. But then the auditorium breaks out into applause, and Jim looks around at them as if surprised, and smiles. In that moment he is dazzling and bright, Starfleet’s golden child. Leonard can feel the spirits in the room being lifted under the force of that smile. His Jim is all grown up, standing straight and strong.

Then Jim’s eyes meet his. His smile does not dim, but it becomes something more solemn and weary, and Leonard’s breath catches. He feels what an enormous weight has settled across Jim’s shoulders. He wishes he could stand beside him and let Jim lean on him.

Something in his expression must convey what he is feeling, because Jim nods at him and smiles even wider, just for him, before looking away.

3.

The second he gets out of the hospital, he’s already got a million things to do. Jim’s not complaining though. It was the longest three weeks of his life to be stuck in that hospital room. Even if the crew did keep him company and he had plenty of reports to read, the open window with the nice view still taunted him every day.

But pretty soon he’s out breathing fresh air, feeling like a freed convict, which isn’t something he’s felt in a while, and thank god those records are sealed. The city is his again, and he visits injured crew, checks in with Starfleet, and finally, goes to see his ship.

She is skeletal and nearly empty. Work hasn’t officially begun on bringing her back to life, not when there’s still so much that needs to be done in the city, repairing the damage that Khan wrought. He finds Scotty already at the Enterprise, and together they go over the repairs that need to be made. It’s staggering and heartrending, to see the ship in such bad shape.

They finish up at the bridge, where the consoles are dead and lifeless. Jim can’t look away from the captain’s chair. He’s barely sat in it, and he has already let his ship get to such a state.

Beside him, Scotty clears his throat. “It’s good to see you on your feet, Captain.”

Jim turns to him and Scotty looks at him with loyalty blazing in his eyes. Jim can’t speak for a moment. He can’t understand how lucky he is to have this, such a loyal crew and a family that he’s willing to die for (and has).

“It’s good to be back, Scotty,” Jim says quietly, and they walk to shuttlebay side by side.

Seeing the Enterprise has drained him. He walks around the city without really thinking about where he’s going. But when he looks up and finds himself outside of Bones’s building, it really doesn’t surprise him much.

“Jim,” Bones greets him as he opens the door. It’s been a long time since Jim has seen Bones in civvies. He’s wearing an old, worn t-shirt and equally worn jeans. Jim, meanwhile, is still in uniform since he had to go to Starfleet today, and he automatically feels overdressed. “How are you feeling?” Bones asks as Jim comes in.

“You’re my doctor, shouldn’t you know?” Jim jokes. He takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

Bones snorts. “Yeah, at this point I could probably recite your medical charts by heart, Jim.” His tone is light and joking, but Jim still frowns.

“I _am_ fine though, Bones. Because of you,” Jim says.

“You’re damn right because of me,” Bones says, and it sounds so warm and familiar that Jim has to laugh.

“Coffee?” Bones asks. “I just made a pot.”

Jim nods and Bones pours him a mug while Jim shrugs out of his stiff uniform jacket. They lean against the kitchen counter and Bones tells him about how the crew has been doing. Even though they visited Jim when they could, they’ve all been pretty busy and Jim hasn’t seen them all that often. Bones gives him the news along with some gossip, and it’s reassuring.

He takes another sip of his coffee and realizes with a start that it’s sweetened with honey.

“You put honey in it,” Jim remarks, cutting Bones off midsentence.

Bones looks surprised. “Yeah, I thought you liked it that way?”

“I do,” Jim says, eyes wide. He rarely gets to drink it with honey since they only have the replicated stuff, which tastes like absolute shit. “I didn’t know you knew that though.”

“Of course I do,” Bones says, almost offended. Jim doesn’t know why he’s surprised, but he is. It never sunk in just how well Bones knows him, but this man literally brought him back from the dead. It shouldn’t affect him so much that Bones knows a trivial thing like exactly how he likes his coffee.

“Of course you do,” Jim agrees, and he leans across the kitchen counter to kiss him. It tastes like coffee and it’s sweet with honey.

4.

It doesn’t really get more miserable than a planet where it rains all the time. Just buckets of water, constantly falling on their heads, beating drums on top of the helmets of their protective suits.

“It’s like that one Ray Bradbury story,” Jim remarks to a passing science officer, who is busy taking readings. “I can’t remember the name of it.” The science officer mumbles some polite comment, and then hurries over to join the crowd.

There’s nothing more frustrating than forgetting a name, so Jim goes around to everyone on the team, appearing to check their progress before offhandedly making a comment about Ray Bradbury.

“Have none of you read _The Illustrated Man_? Jesus!” he huffs, when the sixth person he asks has no idea what he’s talking about. He goes to sulk over near where Spock is working, a tricorder in one hand, and brow furrowed in concentration.

“Could I, if I wanted to, have a required reading list drawn up for the crew? Because wow, seriously? We work on a spaceship and no one’s read Ray Bradbury?”

“I believe you could,” Spock answers, shortly, not even looking up from his tricorder. He’s gotten so used to Jim’s strange tangents, it’s a little scary sometimes.

They pass the time in silence. Jim watches his science officers work, and listens to the dull beating noise of the rain as he silently composes a very long required reading list.

He’s interrupted when Spock’s teeth begin to audibly chatter.

“You okay? Want to go back up to the ship?” Jim asks. They’ve been down on the planet for a pretty long time.

Spock nods, and they get ready to beam up. “I am unaccustomed to being on a planet with such long rains,” Spock explains, sounding regretful.

Jim gapes. “’A Long Rain’! Yeah! Thanks, Spock!” And then he goes to pat Spock on the back.

This is a bad idea, since he forgot they were both wearing unwieldy protective helmets. Their face shields knock against each other, which sends numbing tremors through both of them and also messes up the comms so that for a moment they’re both deafened by a loud screech. This also leads to Spock losing his footing in the slick, muddy ground. They topple over, landing heavily in the mud, and this is the exact moment when Gaila chooses to beam them up.

“Wow, mud wrestling?” Gaila asks, standing over them.

Jim groans, pushing Spock off of him, who is _heavy_. He tries to get up but kind of gives up halfway, choosing instead to lie in a muddy heap.

“I think,” he wheezes, and tries again. “I think I broke a rib.”

And that is how Spock ends up half-carrying him to sickbay, both of them tracking mud through the previously pristine corridors of the Enterprise.

“What the hell happened?” Bones says as they come in.

“The Captain has broken a rib,” Spock says, sounding vaguely apologetic, which makes sense since it was his heavy Vulcan ass that crushed his bones in the first place.

Jim pries his helmet off and stops leaning against Spock to lean up against Bones who makes a muted noise of disgust at suddenly coming into contact with Jim’s muddy suit.

“Bones, please tell me you’ve read Ray Bradbury.”

Bones blinks. “You got me that book of his for a joke, remember?” he grumbles.

Jim pauses, eyes wide. He does remember. It had been the day before their first simulation in space and he had gotten Bones _The Illustrated Man_ to read him the story where the astronauts drift alone in the vacuum of space. He would pause after every other sentence and explain, gently, why none of that would ever happen, how the ship’s controls would protect them. He picked apart every detail of the story until Bones was laughing silently, bent over and shaking with his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful way.

“Finally someone who knows what I’m talking about,” he says, and kisses Bones. At the same exact time, Bones reaches over and stabs Jim with a sedative. The world goes a little sideways after that.

5.

Jim tastes something harsh and metallic and he realizes that he’s bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. He makes himself relax, but it’s impossible. He runs his dust-smeared hands over his pants and tries not to fidget. He had meant to get some rest in his quarters, since the medics at sickbay chased him out, saying he’d only get in the way.

But instead he’s sitting at his computer terminal, waiting anxiously for word on how Bones is doing. He hasn’t even managed to change uniforms, too afraid that he’d miss a message. He looks down at his dirty clothes and realizes that the corner of his shirt is splattered with dried blood.

He makes a noise like a sob and tears off his shirt, breathing heavily. He washes his hands and face and changes into a new uniform. Halfway through putting on his pants, the intercom chirps, and he almost brains himself on the desk getting there to answer it.

“Kirk here,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too breathless.

“McCoy is awake, sir,” M’Benga says. Jim forgets to reply, and runs out of his quarters and sliding into the turbolift just as the doors close. The ensign inside stares at him but does not say anything.

He makes a noise of frustration as the turbolift stops just a floor down. “Are you serious? Couldn’t you have just taken a Jefferies tube?” Jim says impatiently. The ensign squeaks an apology and scuttles out.

When he finally gets to sickbay he goes over to M’Benga. “How is he?”

“His injuries were pretty severe. It’s a good thing you got him here so fast. He’ll be fine after some rest,” M’Benga tells him.

“After Bones got hurt, we kind of… abandoned diplomacy,” Jim says, and hell, he’s looking forward to sending that report to Starfleet command. They’d been there to reason with the rebel force, but after they’d shot at them and Bones had gone down, Jim had sort of decided that reason could wait.

“Where is he?” Jim asks.

M’Benga points him in the right direction and Jim makes his way tentatively over to Bones’s bed. He can’t get the image out of his head, of Bones bleeding in his arms, his eyes falling closed.

Bones looks up as he comes in, and gives him a once-over, like he’s checking him for injuries. “Jim, your fly is down.”

“Shit.” Jim says, quickly zipping himself up. He sits down next to the biobed, hands in his face. “I came all the way down to sickbay like this.”

Bones laughs weakly and Jim brightens at the sound of it. “How are you feeling?” he asks him.

“Like I just got shot three times,” Bones answers.

“You _did_ get shot three times,” Jim reminds him.

“That explains a lot then,” Bones replies.

Jim smiles but it fades quickly. “Bones,” he says, in a choked whisper. He grabs at Bones’s hand. “I thought—”.

“Don’t you dare,” Bones says, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I thought you were going to die,” Jim says anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Now you know how it feels,” Bones says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“What do I feel?” Jim asks him, because he honestly has no idea. He’s never felt like this, like the mere thought of losing someone could stop his heart. Like the universe was hanging on a thread and he’d kill men with his bare hands to keep it from snapping.

“It’s love, darling,” Bones says. “We fell in love with each other and we didn’t even notice.”

Jim takes a deep breath. “Love,” he repeats, laughing shakily. The sound of it is strange and wonderful for the first time. Jim leans over and kisses Bones, just a soft press of lips.

“Do I need to file a report for falling in love with my CMO?” he asks.

“We can get Spock to do that,” Bones says with a smirk, and he tugs Jim down for another kiss.


End file.
